Scarecrow (24 page)

“But—” I struggled to sit up, Rachel’s hands firmly pressing me back.

“It’s the strain,” she nodded wisely. “All the grief we’ve had around here and this awful cold and rain, and you helping us out so much. I should have seen the signs. You’re worn out.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “That is, I’ve
been
fine. I haven’t felt bad until—”

“But now you have to rest,” Rachel told me, standing up and motioning Franny out of the bedroom. “A good night’s sleep will do wonders.”

“No.” I didn’t want to be alone. I needed to talk to Franny. Despairing, I tried to catch her eye, hoping to make her understand. Rachel nudged her out the door, pulling it shut behind her.

“I’ll warm some milk,” she whispered. “It’ll help you sleep.”

But I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to close my eyes, be alone in the dark, do anything that might make me relive that awful terror I’d felt out there in the barn.

It was nothing…Every logical instinct pulled together to convince me, and yet deep down I knew otherwise. It had been something. Something so horrible that I’d been afraid like I’d never been afraid before.

My hands groped helplessly along the covers, feeling the cold radiating from every corner of the room. I was still in my clothes, and they were damp. Hurriedly I changed into my nightgown and dove back under the blankets, wishing I had ten more of them to pull up around me. Yet I knew they would do me little good. The chill I was feeling now came from deep inside me where blankets couldn’t touch.

I jumped as my door opened, then let out a sigh of relief when I saw Franny there. She had her arms full and kicked the door shut behind her, setting a steaming cup on my bedside table.

“Socks,” she announced, dropping them into my outstretched hand. “Two pairs. And a hot brick.” She held up a small rectangle wrapped in a towel, then proceeded to place it beneath the covers near my feet. “You’ll be surprised,” she assured me with a grin, “just how warm you’ll be once you get to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” I said. “I can’t sleep. Franny, where was I when you found me?”

“I didn’t find you. I got scared and called Seth. He found you.”

“But where
was
I?”

Her smile was puzzled. “Lying out there on the path at the side of the barn. We couldn’t figure out where you were going. Where
were
you going?”

“I wasn’t going anywhere. Franny, listen to me.” Something in my tone must have alerted her; her smile faded, and I saw slow reluctance growing in her eyes. “Franny—I never left that barn, I swear it. I…heard something.”

She knew then. I could tell by the flinching of her cheek muscles and the way her face drained white. She knew.

For a moment neither of us said anything. Franny sat down beside me on the bed, working her fingers across the edges of the blanket, worrying them into sweaty knots.

“So you believe me,” she said at last.

“I don’t know what to believe.” I shook my head slowly. “Franny…where was Girlie while I was in the barn?”

She looked surprised. “Girlie? Why…in her room, I reckon—”

“But you’re not sure?” I looked guilty.

“Why…do you think
she
made the noises? It couldn’t have been her, Pam. She was in bed when I heard the noises that night.” She gave me a sheepish glance. “I already thought of her. Her room was the first place I checked. And anyhow,” her face grew troubled, “Girlie’s not one to play tricks like that.”

Tricks like that.
I thought of Kerry hiding in the closet, jumping out to give me a scare…Girlie breathing life into a dead bird…

I turned to Franny, exasperated. “Why on earth did you ever ask her to bring Micah back?”

She stared at me a long time, and then to my dismay she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “It was all my fault…and everybody felt so bad…if I hadn’t hidden my scarecrow maybe Micah wouldn’t have died—”

“Oh, Franny…” Leaning forward, I took her in my arms and rocked her, trying to soothe her heartrending sobs. “Oh, Franny, surely you can’t believe that your scarecrow had anything to do with Micah…that’s just silly!”

“Is it?” She looked up through teary lashes and shook her head adamantly. “You don’t know how it is with us here—how it’s always been. Nothing ever goes out of place—it’s nature’s way, the way of the land—like trying to make winter come before fall…or planting crops in the snow—it’s just not done that way…we
always
burn scarecrows after harvest…Seth
makes
us do it! I knew better…and I went against things—”

“You went against Seth,” I corrected her gently. “That’s the only thing you did—not against nature or God or—”

“But it upset Micah so,” she cried. “I never should have done it.”

Looking down on her unbearable grief, I continued to stroke her hair, making comforting sounds under my breath. My heart beat heavy within me; I remembered Seth’s words that night in the barn—
“A change in routine upsets him.”
Had Franny’s disobedience really been the fuel that had fanned Micah’s madness that night, that had almost gotten me killed? Sadly I gave her a gentle hug and begged her not to cry.

“Franny, I’m sure it wasn’t you that upset Micah. It could have been any number of things.”

“No, he was upset all right. It was almost like he
knew!
Like he knew something bad was gonna happen. That it was gonna happen to
him
!”

“That doesn’t make sense and you know it,” I said firmly.

“I told on you that night,” Franny wept, and my arms stiffened around her. “I didn’t mean to, but you wouldn’t take me with you, and I was so mad—”

I said nothing, and she buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled so that I could hardly hear.

“I heard Micah say he was going to try to get you out of here—I was outside the door in the hall—and so I told Seth on you—”

“Oh, Franny,” I couldn’t help but smile now, thinking how her childish act of vengeance had probably saved my life.
Don’t ever say anything…about Micah…it’s something nobody wants to talk about…
“Franny, nothing happened…thanks to you, nothing happened—”

“How can you say that?” Franny choked, misinterpreting my meaning, shocked eyes fixing themselves on my face. “How can you say that now that Micah’s dead?”

I moved my shoulders in a gesture of bewilderment. “Franny, you’re being entirely too hard on yourself. What happened to Micah has nothing to do with you telling Seth about his plans. It has nothing to do with that scarecrow!”

“Micah was always like that,” Franny mumbled to herself, wiping a sleeve across her eyes. “Always so sweet and trying to help everybody out. And it’s all my fault he’s dead. I can’t stand knowing that it was me—”

“Stop it, Franny!” My voice rose sharply. “Stop talking yourself into all this guilt. Things happen in life—you can’t always blame someone for what’s meant to be, they just happen—”

“Things happen in this
house,
” she said. Her voice was a whisper, hollow and scared. She turned her eyes on me, and they seemed too large somehow…too empty. “Things happen in this house,” she echoed. “And on this farm…and in these hills. And maybe I know about them…and maybe I don’t.”

“Franny—”

“Ask Seth,” she whispered. “He’s the one to ask. He’s the one—”

She stiffened, her face draining white as the bedroom door slowly swung open.

“Oh, Rachel!” Franny gasped, collapsing back against me as I tried to calm my own racing heart. “I thought you were Seth. I thought he heard—”

She bit down on her lip, and as her hands twisted together in her lap, she gave a sudden, desperate sob.

“Why did it have to be Micah? He couldn’t stand to see
anything
suffer or die. He never hurt anybody! He never did a mean thing in his life!”

M
Y MIND WAS STILL
whirling long after I was alone. Sleep was impossible. Sometime in the night I heard my door open and started in panic—but at the last second I heard Franny’s whisper, and she crept into bed with me, and we huddled there, trembling, until dawn. When she let herself out again the room was bathed in pearly light, and a hazy sunless day lay beyond the window.

I stood looking out for a long time, reviewing events in my mind, happenings that made no sense, had no pattern. I reconstructed the argument I had overheard that night between Girlie and Franny…and the awful secret I’d been shown in the cave that day with Seth…and our confrontation in the barn when he’d first enlightened me about Micah’s madness…Then my mind went back to Franny’s tearful outburst the night before, and everything shattered apart.

“Things happen in this house…ask Seth…he’s the one—”
My God, what did that mean! A part of me was frozen by it, not wanting to hear or see or know. Franny had always been critical of Seth; from the very first day I’d known her, she’d been rebellious and openly antagonistic. I’d put it down to growing pains and a natural defiance of authority. Franny was strong-minded and strong-willed, and it was obvious that Rachel hadn’t the disposition to keep her in line. It had to be up to Seth to act the enforcer. Yet another part of me remembered all too well my
own
fear of him—the way he had openly disliked and distrusted me, his seemingly unfeeling attitude toward Rachel and Girlie where I’d expected to see love and compassion. Yes, I’d feared him—even
hated
him at times, until…

My cheeks burned, as the sweet, painful memories rushed back, washing through me until my whole body was afire with my shame and my desire for him. This man who had held me, who had been part of me, who had finally shown the depth of his feelings, this man
couldn’t
be the man Franny had so much contempt for. He just couldn’t be…

“Ask Seth…he’s the one—”

Nothing made sense to me now, and yet it all seemed to center somehow on that scarecrow. The change in routine. The betrayal. According to Seth, Micah would have killed me that night because of it. And according to Franny, Micah had been trying to save me…but from what? Seth? Micah himself? Some other danger I wasn’t even aware of? Seth’s words came back to me again:
“Don’t ever say anything about tonight…about any of this…nobody wants to talk…
”

But now I found myself wondering just
why
nobody would want to talk. It seemed fantastic to me, but could it actually be possible that Franny really didn’t know what Micah had done? And if that was true, then how had Seth managed to cover it up so neatly and protect her from it all these years? It was so obvious that Franny adored Micah. Seth must really have understood how lonely she was, how much she needed a friend, and he’d done everything he could to give her that friend in Micah, to protect Micah’s image in her eyes. Could it be that Seth really did love her very much…

My eyes filled, and I took a deep breath of the rainy air. I thought of the many years Seth had suffered, trying to protect his family, to keep them all together. Was it any wonder that his temper flared easily, that he demanded strict adherence to the only way of life that could ever work for them? If Franny feared his temper and what he might sometimes do, then it was with total innocence of the love he had for her and for them all. Seth had talked about it before—survival. I was finally beginning to understand.

“Oh, Franny,” I whispered now, half smiling. “You saved my life that night and you never even knew…” And just as quickly my smile froze, then died. None of this explained the noises I’d heard last night—the ones Franny had heard the night before. Or Girlie’s repeated statements that Micah couldn’t sleep. Nothing explained why I’d been lying outside in the rain when I’d been alone in the barn only minutes before…

Or why Dewey still hadn’t shown up to take me home.

Disconcerted once more, I dressed and went down to the kitchen where Rachel and Girlie were at the table writing numbers and letters on a slate. Rachel looked relieved to see me, and set about fixing breakfast, though I assured her I wasn’t hungry.

“Nonsense, you need something hot to keep off the chill. Franny said you seemed all right, though. She looked in on you when she got up.”

“Yes.” I acknowledged the white lie and warmed my hands around a cup of strong coffee.

Rachel seemed about to say something, but checked herself. She broke some eggs into an iron skillet and shook the pan gently over the fire. Girlie stuck one end of the chalk into her mouth and bit off a piece, chewing it slowly as she stared at me. Rachel took a knife and sliced off a thick chunk of bread, finally glancing at me over her shoulder.

“Pamela,” she said hesitantly, “did you hear any noises in the night?”

My hand jerked, scalding my lips with coffee. I lowered the cup to the table and pressed my hand against my mouth. “What did you say?” I murmured.

Girlie just looked at me…chewing…her little chin rotating in a slow, even rhythm. Her eyes never left my face. Never blinked.

“I…” Rachel seemed uneasy, as if she didn’t care to talk about it but couldn’t help herself. “I mean…in the night…late…did you hear anything—anything at all?”

“Like what?” I lowered my hand, clenched it in my lap. I met her eyes, noting a quick flush of color in her cheeks. My voice was so casual, too casual.

“Oh, it’s silly, I know,” Rachel dismissed it, flustered, “and I wouldn’t even bring it up—why, Seth would get on me for sure, thinking I was making up nonsense in my mind—” She bit her lip, laughing at herself, but her laugh sounded forced. “It’s just that this was different.”

“I must have slept pretty hard,” I lied, amazed at myself that it could come so effortlessly. “So if there
was
anything, I’m afraid I could have been right in the middle of it and not even known.” I leaned forward, purposely avoiding Girlie’s eyes. “But what did you hear, Rachel?” I coaxed gently. “If it upset you, maybe you
should
tell Seth.”

“No, oh no,” she said quickly, but as she turned to face me, her voice went flat. “It was different, Pamela,” she said again, more firmly this time. “I’ve lived in this house so long, I know every creak and groan, in every kind of weather. And this was different.” Her voice shook a little though she tried to disguise it with a sigh. “I’ve never heard this sound before.”